


Sentimental

by Iverna



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27674908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iverna/pseuds/Iverna
Summary: Neither of them is sentimental. They would never keep something simply for sentimental value. They are both practical people.They are also both liars.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 29
Kudos: 115





	Sentimental

“Clove hitch,” Killian says, fingers flexing as he ties the thin rope around the fork that Emma is holding up, per instruction. “Adjustable, as you can see, so it’s a useful one.”

Emma nods, although she thinks she’s going to need at least one more demonstration before she has any idea how it’s done. She keeps getting distracted by the sure, practiced way his fingers move, the skilful way he uses his hook, the way his rings catch the light of the diner.

Okay, maybe two more demonstrations. Maybe more than two.

“Swan?”

“Hmm?”

There’s a slight frown on his face, more bemused than anything else. “Did you catch that?”

“What? Yeah.” She nods, looking at the cord now tied around the fork. “Clove hitch, basically two half-hitches, useful ‘cause it’s adjustable.”

The way he beams at her sends a frankly _stupid_ thrill of pride through her.

A few weeks ago, Emma would have scoffed at the idea of being entertained by Captain Hook teaching her sailor’s knots. And okay, maybe it’s not most people’s idea of fun—but most people have never met Killian Jones. She could listen to him explain things all day.

And some of these knots are pretty damn useful.

He’s just finished one called a Carrick Bend when her parents finally turn up. With a flourish, Killian hands the knotted cord to her, and they both turn their attention to the meeting. Time to focus on wicked witches and flying monkeys.

Emma slips the piece of rope into her pocket, and gets back to work.

* * *

Killian is still adjusting to life in this new realm. He’s learned a lot and deduced even more, but he knows that a lot of the traditions and customs are still beyond him. As winter deepens, he learns about Christmas. The festival is easy enough—this realm’s version of Yule, as far as he can tell, and that’s not new to him. But the traditions associated with it are... well, there are a lot.

“People send cards,” Henry says, slouching on the bench in the diner next to his mother. “Hey, we can do that this year! Right? Mom? We can send cards to everyone.”

Emma smiles and shrugs in that way that says she’s touched and trying not to be. “Sure, kid.”

“Cards?” Killian asks.

Henry’s eyes widen. “Don’t you have Christmas cards in the Enchanted Forest?”

Emma laughs. “Y’know, kid, now I think of it, I’m not sure Hallmark has branched out that far.”

She turns back to Killian. “It’s like letters, really. Just... you can buy cards, right, with Christmassy pictures on them and saying ‘Happy Christmas’ or whatever.”

He still has no idea what a card is.

Emma takes a napkin from the dispenser on the table and folds it in half. Then she borrows a pen from Ruby, and scribbles a very crude picture of a tree on the front of it. Above that, she writes _Happy Christmas_ , and then she unfolds the napkin again and writes on the inside of it.

She folds it back up, and slides it over to him. “Like this.”

He takes the napkin. On the inside, she has written, _Dear Killian, this is a card. Best, Emma._

He grins at her. “I see.”

They keep talking about Christmas—mostly the presents, which are Henry’s main concern and the point he keeps coming back to.

Later, as he leaves, Killian slips the ‘card’ into one of his pockets.

* * *

Killian puts the photograph back into Emma’s keepsake box, nudging her glasses to the side as he does. He feels his eyes widen slightly. There, in a corner of the box, is a piece of thin rope with a knot tied into it.

He fishes it out, heart pounding. “You kept this?”

She looks at it, then up at him. There’s a moment where he thinks she’s about to shrug it off—she forgot about it, she didn’t know where else to put it, it fell in—but then she smiles, like he’s caught her, and shrugs. “Yeah. Well. You gave it to me.”

And he thinks back to when he broke into her office and found the scrap of fabric lying bunched up next to his hook. His impromptu bandage from the beanstalk. At the time, he hadn’t cared—hadn’t wanted to care. Now...

Now, he smiles back at the woman he loves, and hears everything she isn’t saying, and feels a part of his soul settle.

* * *

“You kept this?”

Killian looks over as Emma dangles the napkin between thumb and forefinger. It’s a little battered—the things aren’t made to last, and this one looks like it spent some time in someone’s pocket. She found it lying on his desk, in the captain’s quarters.

Killian has a cornered look on his face—and then he grins, slightly shame-faced. “Aye.”

“Why? We sent you a proper one, right?”

“I kept that, too.” He shrugs, scratching at his ear, trying to act like it’s nothing. “But that was the first.”

She swallows. She knows exactly why he kept it. They’re the same when it comes to that, and she knows he’s just as loathe to admit it as she is.

She isn’t used to people holding onto things she gave them. She isn’t used to those things meaning anything. Neither is he.

But they’re _getting_ used to it, slowly but surely.

She smiles back at the man she loves, and she doesn’t need to say it, and neither does he. They understand each other all the same.


End file.
